Storms

Mood:  numb

It's been dark on and off all day and I have been patiently waiting for a thunderstorm.

The timing of the ominous thunder and lighting and dark sky is truly impressive.  Really, very poetic. Sixteen minutes ago my husband called me from work. He never calls, we just text all day.

His cancer is back. The mass in his lung is cancerous.

And the heavens have opened up in response.

As I watch the trees whip back and forth and the rain pound the street outside, all I can think is that the current climate inside is what I should feel like on the inside.

But I don't. Where there should be tears, my face is dry. The sobs are not coming, but instead are stuck in my throat. I feel nothing. I want to feel pain or anger or hope, anything. But all I can manage is staring out the window in complete and utter shock. I am sure the tears will come, just as the rain is now. I know I will be angry as I watch my husband fight for his life. But right now, I feel nothing. My hands shake and my heart feels as heavy as the tree braving the storm outside, but I am numb. I am without words. I am without feeling.

I am not, however, without love. I am not without hope.

As Malcolm bounces on the couch next to me the knowledge that we must tell him how sick Daddy is soon weighs heavily upon me. But no, I am not without hope. He will have to watch as his Daddy fights and is sick and ceases to be the Daddy he is used to. But Jeff will recover. And Malcolm will bounce back. They're both resilient.

And I? I will stand with them. I will hold Jeff's hand and stroke his head and drive him to and from the hospital. I will play with Malcolm and get him to and from school and make cupcakes for Jeff's birthday on Saturday.

I will hope. And I will love. And I know that we will all be alright. The storm will pass, just as the one outside will as well. And when it has passed, there will be a rainbow and sunshine and a brighter tomorrow.


(I wrote this last night....update.....today we will go to the oncologist and discuss his treatment. We are all as okay as possible, and Malcolm is still blissfully unaware that there is anything wrong with his Daddy. The storm last night ended up being a small tornado in Ankeny....there are trees uprooted and split directly in two. The cupcakes I made are bright and colorful and cheerful and today we will all enjoy one together and celebrate Jeff's birthday. And next year, when I make Jeff birthday cupcakes again, we will celebrate the bravery, strength and courgae of Jeff and this small family in the face of cancer.)